


And My Jaw Locks Up (When I Try To Ask You To Stay)

by SF_Side_Account



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: And I wanna write shameless melodramatic cheesy SalAsh, F/M, It's Valentine's Day, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Or at least it's Valentine's day for like 2 more hours where I am, SO THAT'S WHAT I'M GONNA DO, We don't have a ton of Ash pining over Sal and we should, okay look
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SF_Side_Account/pseuds/SF_Side_Account
Summary: ‘I like you,’ she thought with a rush of warmth as her imitation of their French teacher got Sal to laugh, nearly hiccuping.‘I like you,’ she pushed down, watching him stretch his arms above his head, all lines and angles and loose easy grace that slowly came out as he got comfortable with you.‘I like you,’ she felt over the wall of gray that came over her on bad days, as Sal sat with her on the back porch and told her stories to give her something else to think about, holding her hand to give her some kind of tether to the world and stop her from drifting out into whatever lay beyond despair.‘I really like you,’ she said as they had lain together on the ground post snow fight, breathing hard, too exhilarated to be anything but honest.And then it was out and she couldn’t take it back, and everything was wrong in the span of an instant.Tumblr prompt: I just told you I liked you but now I’m shy and say “never mind, forget it” and why are you looking at me like that?
Relationships: Ashley Campbell/Sal Fisher
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	And My Jaw Locks Up (When I Try To Ask You To Stay)

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from https://tiptoe39.tumblr.com/post/128638682051/right-to-the-good-parts-prompt-list
> 
> (Also, points if you know what song the title references!)

The words are out of her mouth before she can think about them.

That’s how it ALWAYS is with her, that’s how it’s always been, her heart and mouth and body all seem to move faster than her brain, and and she’s never hated that about herself more than she does in this moment.

She hadn’t meant to.

She and Sal are out in the snow, because he’s the only one who’s still willing to go out there with her knowing that agreeing to join her is really just agreeing to a Snow War. Todd, who hates the cold on principle, and Larry, who only had to go with her once to learn his lesson, are both immune to puppy dog eyes, nagging, and every yet discovered form of emotional blackmail- but for Sal, none of that is necessary.

The first time he’d gone out there with her, she’d assumed it would also be the last. He’d been a remarkably good sport about the whole thing, after the initial shock from an ambush of snowballs during what he’d probably assumed was just going to be a walk admiring the snowfall together, he’d even managed to retaliate. They’d returned to Larry’s apartment freezing, soaked, spluttering with laughter, and with the beginnings of a cold that lasted almost a month between the two of them.

The next winter, when she’d noticed the first flakes beginning to fall outside the window and teasingly asked the others if they wanted to go for a walk with her, she’d meant it more as a joke than with any real expectation of company- but Sal had rolled his eyes with a little huff of laughter and gone to grab his coat.

He’s been her companion since then- out there with her as soon as the world turns white, suspending all maturity to give as good as he gets as soon as she starts cramming snow down jackets. It’s something she looks forward to all year, and the realization that the next winter will be the first time since ninth grade that she’ll be going without it is something she’s been aggressively shoving to the back of her mind all day.

Maybe that’s why.

“…what?”

He’s still staring at her.

He’s completely still, even down to those mismatched blue eyes, and it’s absolutely fucking terrifying. One of the first things she’d noticed about him, after they’d all started regularly hanging out, was the way he always seems to be in motion. He walks while he talks. He half acts out whatever story he relays to them, like he feels they can’t really get the full picture unless he shows them, too. He taps out the rhythm to whatever song he’s humming on whatever surface happens to be nearest, and doesn’t even seem to notice he’s doing it. Some people talk with their hands, Sal talks with his whole body- he’s ALIVE in a way that she doesn’t see in anyone else. 

And the moment those four stupid words left her stupid, stupid mouth, he froze, making everything in her brain come to a screeching halt as she realized what she’d done.

_‘I really like you.’_

“Ash- what?”

She laughs, short and panicked, for lack of a better answer and because that’s what she always does when she’s gotten herself in a situation she can’t handle. Act like it’s funny, and maybe you can convince the world that it really is just a joke.

She can feel Sal’s eyes boring into her as she sits up, running a hand through her hair and only getting it more messy.

“We should probably head in soon,” she says, and amid all the desperation turning her stomach to ice she can’t help feeling a little proud at how casually the words come out. “It’s getting dark.”

“What did you say?”

“I said it’s getting dark, Fish,” She repeats breezily, getting to her feet and doing her best to brush the extra snow off of her coat. She’s getting the swing of things at last, her heart is still going a million miles an hour, but if she can just keep control, she might be able to salvage this and nothing has to change. “Let’s go.”

“Ash,” There’s a note she doesn’t recognize in his voice, mingling with the strange tone he’s had since he finally started talking again- like panic, like desperation, like disbelief, and the ice in her stomach turns to flames as humiliation burns through her. “Before that. What did you say?”

She tips her face up skyward, squeezing her eyes shut.

She’s not saying it again.

She’d never planned on saying it in the first place. The day she’d realized exactly how she felt about Sal, sitting with him by the lake and recounting some stupid thing her cousin had done during her last visit to try and make him laugh, she’d sworn to herself that she wasn’t going to make things weird. The fact that she had some stupid crush was not going to ruin the last year had with her friend. It would go away eventually, and he would never know it happened in the first place.

In the meantime, she just had to make sure nothing ever slipped out, wait for her feelings to die, and pretend like it wasn’t getting harder and harder every day.

_‘I like you,’_ she thought with a rush of warmth as her imitation of their French teacher got Sal to laugh, nearly hiccuping.

_‘I like you,’_ she pushed down, watching him stretch his arms above his head, all lines and angles and loose easy grace that slowly came out as he got comfortable with you.

_‘I like you,’_ she felt over the wall of gray that came over her on bad days, as Sal sat with her on the back porch and told her stories to give her something else to think about, holding her hand to give her some kind of tether to the world and stop her from drifting out into whatever lay beyond despair.

"I really like you," she said as they had lain together on the ground post snow fight, breathing hard, too exhilarated to be anything but honest.

And then it was out and she couldn’t take it back, and everything was wrong in the span of an instant.

He’ll be nice.

She knows he will. That’s just how Sal IS- but it’s him knowing that’s awful, him dealing with the burden of her ridiculous, unwanted feelings and having to figure out how to let her down gently, the idea of him feeling guilty about it, the idea of him PITYING her-

“Ashley-”

“Look, just. Forget it.”

She can’t do this.

He’ll be nice, because Sal’s always nice, but she suddenly can’t handle any kind of niceness that comes after that urgent ‘What did you say?’ like he needed to confirm that he was indeed hearing The Nightmare Scenario, and if this conversation continues for one more second she’s not going to be able to manage fake cheerful and nonchalant anymore, because she is going to throw up, or black out, or possibly just cease to exist out of sheer embarrassment and self loathing. It’s time to quit while she’s still behind, go home and maybe cry a little because yes, she’s pathetic, but this HURTS, and then just. Sleep for a thousand years. Wake up when things are less awful and she’s become someone else.

“Not every joke lands, y’know?” She manages lightly, opening her eyes again. 

He doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll work on my material,” She concludes, shrugging. “I’ll have something better by Monday. You’ll see. Enjoy the weekend, though.”

She can’t bring herself to turn around before she starts walking away.

She’s made it a few yards when she hears the telltale crunch of boots on snow telling her that she’s about to have company, and has a split second impulse to start running. He’s fast, but she has a head start, and longer legs than he does. Her house isn’t that far from here. She _might_ be able to pull it off.

Granted, it would make seeing him at school Monday even more painfully awkward than it’s already going to be- but at this point not by THAT much. It’s already a disaster. Really, how much worse could running-

_“Ash.”_

Goddammit.

“Is it actually a joke?”

His hand is on her wrist- not to trap her, not to keep her there, but as a wordless request for her to wait- one that she could easily refuse, pulling away and shaking him off.

But Sal almost never asks anyone for anything, her least of all.

And she’s never been good at denying him when he does.

“Was it actually a joke,” There’s the slightest hitch in his voice when he asks, like he’s scared to hear the answer, but even more afraid not to. “Or did… did you mean it?”

Fuck, she could _cry._

She can’t lie. Not when, for whatever reason, it’s this big a deal to him, because he wouldn’t push her but even if he didn’t know, she _would,_ and lying to Sal Fisher is something that would haunt her for the rest of her life. 

She can’t turn around.

She can’t look at him.

She wishes, not for the first time, that he were easier to hate, because it would have solved so many of her problems if she didn’t like him this much.

“Yes,” The word comes out thin and cracked, in a voice that she barely recognizes as her own. 

From behind her, she hears the barest disbelieving inhale.

“I did-” Ash swallows hard, shoulders hunching inward. “I meant it.”

She feels his hand slowly uncurl from around her wrist, letting it fall limply to her side. It feels colder, even though there’s no reason it should.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers a little helplessly, because she doesn’t know what else to _say,_ and then gives a choked gasp when a pair of warm arms suddenly wrap around her from behind, pulling her close, back into an embrace that’s become wonderfully, amazingly familiar in four years.

“I’m not.” Sal breathes the words out like he can’t quite believe he gets to say them. “God, Ash, I’m not, I like you so much, I’ve liked you for _years-”_

The words keep tumbling out like he can’t get them fast enough, but Ash can’t hear anything past ‘I like you’, disbelief and relief and pure, wild, fizzy joy making her lightheaded.

She laughs again, almost like a sob, and sinks down, Sal kneeling with her, clutching his hands with hers.

“I like you too,” Sal says into her ear, still cradling her in his arms as she leans back into him. “I like you too.”


End file.
